Soup
by antovino
Summary: A dumb, crack! story in which Arthur gets sick and Alfred tries to make it better with a nice warm bowl of soup. Things go a little.. unexpected.


**NOTE: I wrote this about two years ago. I don't even remember writing it, or WHY I wrote it, as it is probably the dumbest thing I have in my folders. BUT, I found it again recently, and decided to type it up EXACTLY as it was in my notebook, if only for my friends who wanted a laugh. Please don't judge me, haha. I have no idea if this is even accurate.**

Alfred woke up that morning when the sun light from the window hit him directly in the face. "Ughhh," he groaned, squinting, "I haaate mornings." In frustration, he rolled over in an attempt to block the light, when his hand hit something unusual.

Typically, Arthur would have woken up hours before him, and Alfred would get the bed all to himself. But this morning, he hadn't gotten up yet. This was strange. Looking at him with curious blue eyes, Alfred had to admit that he _looked_ pretty strange as well. His eyes were clenched shut and face tinted red. Arthur's blond hair was sticking to his face from sweat, but he was completely under the blankets. _If he was hot and sweaty, why didn't he just take the blankets off?_ Alfred wondered.

Alfred then curiously poked him in the cheek with one of his fingers. "Iggy, bro?" He asked, and then heard a strange gurgling noise come from the man in question. "You okay there?"

"Ohh, I get it!" He suddenly remembered another time Arthur had been exactly like this. What's that word Francis had used? A…cold? "You're sick!"

With confidence, Alfred jumped out of bed, determined to help his boyfriend. He needed to help him get over this cold, and return Iggy back to as normal as possible. He was the hero after all! And he only knew one way to do this.

Alfred headed down the stairs, planning to make the most delicious cheeseburger yet. However, halfway to the kitchen, he began to realize something. Surely there was more than one thing to do when someone got sick, and he was all about trying something new! He himself hasn't been sick as far as he knew, but he'd seen plenty of movies with sick people in them. They always make warm soup or some weird kind of tea. You could drink gross looking medicine, that was sometimes black and goopy. He didn't want Iggy drinking any of that, since most of his _normal _food was black and goopy, and he drunk tea every day, so it probably wouldn't solve anything. He headed to the kitchen once again with soup at the front of his mind.

It was probably supposed to be homemade soup, but Arthur was suffering alone upstairs, he didn't have the _time_ to hand make a soup! He walked over to the cupboard in search of a hearty can of the world's best, Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup. From the top shelf, he finally grabbed a can. Flicking the lick in triumph, he chuckled, "Gotcha!"

A microwave was obviously the best choice in cooking. It was fast and simple; all you have to do is push some buttons, and it does all the work! Easy peasy!

Reading the can of soup for the allotted cooking time, Alfred placed the can in the microwave and timed it for one minute and thirty seconds. Standing back, he sighed in pleasure. He loved his culture! Now, Arthur will be back to normal as quickly as possible!

Suddenly, the microwave began to make loud popping noises, and the metal can started sparking. _Haha, they're like tiny fireworks_, he thought, leaning closer in order to see. Abruptly, the microwave made an even louder **BANG** and caught on fire! Alfred unheroically screamed a little from shock, before running out to find a fire extinguisher, leaving the fire alone to start spreading.

After spraying white goop all over the microwave, and everywhere else too, really, he frowned at the remains of his precious can of soup. After all that hard work…

He then heard some footsteps from upstairs. Knowing there should only be two people in the house right now, he hurried to look out the door and up to the stairs. Sure enough, Arthur stood at the top. His whole soup fiasco had even brought Iggy out of bed. He felt kind of guilty; he had only tried to help, but ending up making the case worse.

Arthur, seeing the American, began (slowly) walking down the stairs. Leaning against the rail for support, he shouted, "What the _hell_ i-" Stopping in the middle of his scolding, he began to cough, and started hacking. Soon, he coughed so uncontrollably hard, he knocked himself off balance and rolled the rest of the way down the staircase.

Alfred held back a snicker (because it was all quite comical) and ran to offer a helping hand. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, right above the Brit, he once again heard strange gurgling noises coming from the man, except this time it sounded a bit more painful.

"Here, lemme help." Alfred said as he grabbed Arthur's hand and pulled him to his feet. There, he wobbled a bit, but managed to get out a "I think you've helped enough."

Just then, Arthur caught sight of the kitchen through the open door. His eyes widened considerably, and his face, if possible, got even paler. "My kitchen… _What have you done?!"_

In panic, Alfred began apologizing, "I'm sorry, don't worry though, I'll make sure everything is cleaned up later, I promise. I was trying to help by making you soup, but the microwave caught on fire, and-" Alfred noticed that Arthur was becoming more and more unsteady as the minutes passed. "Here," he offered, "Let's get you back to bed." Swooping him up, he carried him bridal style up the stairs, and placed him back into their bed.

Apologizing once more, he opted to call Francis and request that he take care of Iggy once again.


End file.
